Wilful Violence
by cyanwolfstar
Summary: Marauders era - third year Remus lets his control slip with a fellow student. McGonagall makes her displeasure over this known quite emphatically. Absolutely not slash. Probably a oneshot. Warning: contains corporal punishment.


A/N: This fic will contain corporal punishment. If this is a problem for you in any way, please do not read on.

 _ **Important:**_ I have altered the details from the canon ever so slightly; for the purposes of this story, Lucius Malfoy is in fifth year, only two years above the Marauders, as opposed to five or six as was suggested in the novels.

Thank you for giving this a read and I hope you enjoy it! Reviews are always welcomed, negative or positive.

Remus Lupin tried to make himself as small as possible, hunching his shoulders and training his eyes on the floor, his hand fiddling with the worn strap of his leather watch nervously in a way that suggested this was a familiar habit to him. He, unlike the dark-haired boy who strode next to him ranting about some 'frankly ridiculous' essay set by Professor Binns, had noticed their worst tormentor leaning nonchalantly against the wall further along the corridor, accompanied by a handful of his sycophantic followers.

Letting Sirius' oblivious tirade wash over him, Remus silently prayed that, for once, Lucius Malfoy would let the boys pass without challenge, cringing internally when the older boy stepped out to block their path. Apparently his prayers would not be answered today.

Remus froze, keeping his gaze firmly downward, whilst Sirius, maintaining an impressive level of ignorance, strode headlong into the chest of the blond Slytherin. Bristling with annoyance, he stepped back, ready to give a piece of his mind to whomever had chosen to get in his way, only to release a small 'ah' at the sight of Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked cruelly at the evident apprehension written across the faces of the two younger boys. "Look who we have here," he began, "my two favourite little Gryffindors. Awfully sorry to hear your mum's sick, Lupin. She took one look at your face and threw up, was it?"

Remus gritted his teeth, refusing to meet the cold gaze of the older boy. Taunts and insults he could take; despite his affliction not being common knowledge, throughout his childhood he had been the subject of mocking jeers and derision from the other children, who could not quite pinpoint why Remus was so different to them so instead elected to relentlessly bully the vulnerable child. Steeling himself for whatever vicious barb was to be directed at him next, he resolved not to respond. If they could both appear unaffected by the jabs Malfoy threw at them, then he would soon get disinterested and move on to find some helpless first years.

Much the same thoughts were running through Sirius' head. When Malfoy had first made targeting the Marauders his favourite hobby, each cheap shot the slimy git had made at them was met by an equally low blow from the fiery-tempered Gryffindor, and yet all that had earned Sirius was a set of impressive bruises and considerably more detentions that the slippery Slytherin. Moony had eventually persuaded him to reluctantly put a lid on his explosive anger, and the quiet boy's advice had improved things greatly.

It was precisely because of this that Sirius was so shocked by what occurred next. Malfoy had moved on to Sirius, drawling, "And what about you, Black? How's your mother?"

Sirius glared at the boy, who gave out a cruel laugh and said, "Oh, do forgive me, I forgot who I was talking to for a moment! As if your mother cares enough to inform you of her welfare _, blood traitor_. You are and you will forever remain the unwanted Black."

No sooner had the words left the blond's mouth than Sirius felt the wiry figure next to him emit a low, dangerous growl and charge at the older boy. Malfoy was flung against the unforgiving stone wall behind him. His head hit the hard rock with an unsettling thunk, and his eyes rolled backwards. He collapsed to the floor with the air of a puppet whose strings had been cut.

The tension was palpable. Sirius stared at his friend in shock. Remus was standing tall with a treacherous glimmer in his eyes, clearly unrepentant and clearly without regret for his actions.

The Slytherins, who had been hovering, apparently unsure of what to do without their leader, seemed to shake themselves back to reality and rushed off down the corridor with the obvious intention of getting a teacher.

Before long, one of them returned tailed by Professor Slughorn, closely followed by a fuming Professor McGonagall. The sight they were confronted with differed not greatly from what the Slytherin had left; Sirius had now sunk against the opposite wall, unsure of what to do, with Remus being almost as unresponsive as the incapacitated Malfoy. The lycanthrope remained standing, his simmering anger visible through his clenched jaw and taut posture, and Lucius lay in a crumpled heap on the cobbles.

Slughorn rushed to tend to the fallen student, whilst McGonagall simply strode on through the passageway, not lessening her pace ever so slightly. "With me, Mr Lupin," she called out tersely to -the tawny-haired Gryffindor, who seemed to regain some of his sense and trotted to catch up with his head of house.

Slughorn turned a sympathetic glance on Sirius, directing, "Better get yourself back to your common room, my boy."

Sirius, who was only too glad to follow the potion master's instruction and remove himself from the scene, headed up to Gryffindor tower. Boy, James and Peter would want to hear about this.

"Explain, Mr Lupin," the imposing witch said, displeasure clear in her curt tone, "what on _earth_ possessed you to act in such an atrocious manner."

Remus gulped. The long walk to McGonagall's office had given him time to think, and the magnitude of his fury had decreased by far, and although he did not feel any remorse, that did not lessen his anxiety towards whatever his head of house had in store for him.

"He… he had it coming, Professor," Remus started. He had resolved to tell McGonagall the complete truth, as she had clearly seen the impact of his actions on Malfoy, so there was no use denying the severity of it. "He said stuff about me… about Sirius. He called my best friend a _blood traitor_ ," Remus spat the last words, his disgust evident.

"I am yet to hear an excuse for your actions, Mr Lupin," replied Professor McGonagall, "You're a bright boy, Remus. You know that words, however insulting, do not justify the violent display you exhibited."

"I know, Professor, but he…" Remus said, halting as he realised that he and his professor might have contrasting views on what he was about to say.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Continue, Mr Lupin."

Remus knew that it would not be wise to do so, and yet Malfoy's cutting words towards Sirius echoed in his head, and the boy said with conviction, "He deserved it."

Minerva was shocked at the dangerous passion in the eyes of the child. Remus was usually so reserved, a model student, and yet it was becoming more and more clear to her that what she had initially pinned as a simple momentary lack of control was instead a wilful act of violence committed by the boy.

Thunderously, she replied, "No one, I repeat, _no one,_ deserves to be on the receiving end of what you did earlier, young man. Had Mr Malfoy's head it the stone at an infinitesimally different angle, you would have not only put him in the hospital wing today, Mr Lupin, but he could be _dead._ Do you understand the grievousness of actions, boy?"

"Yes, Professor," Remus replied, his voice barely above a whisper. The gravity of his offence was finally sinking in. He had been blinded by fierce protective instincts towards his close friend, and had failed to see the potential repercussions of taking a swing at Malfoy.

"Good," McGonagall replied. She could see that Remus was finally accepting the enormity of his wrongdoing, and she was not one to repeat herself ad nauseam. Adopting a business-like tone, she directed, "Right, then, Mr Lupin, trousers down and over the desk if you please."

Remus' stomach flipped. He had been expecting this since McGonagall had brought him to her office. His father would have dealt with such a transgression in much the same way, except perhaps without the courtesy of allowing his son to keep his underwear, and Remus knew that Minerva McGonagall and Lyall Lupin were close friends and shared the same philosophy regarding discipline. Even so, a small shred of hope had remained that his head of house would simply scold him and send him on his way. Allowing a small sigh, he shrugged off his robe and made his way over to the weathered wooden desk, pulling his school trousers to his knees and spreading himself across the desk, just tall enough to grasp the other side.

Minerva was grateful for Remus' cooperation. She had been truthful when stating that the boy was intelligent; he had clearly accepted that he deserved this and was aware that struggling, as many other students did in his position, would not achieve anything. She would be sure to pass this on to his father, who, on hearing about his son's stoic acceptance, might elect to scold the boy more lightly for his misdeed, the details of which she would also deliver to Lyall.

Seeing that the lad had settled on the desk, the Scot picked up the yard stick she kept specifically for this purpose. Not wishing to prolong the child's anxiety, she warned, "Hold tight, Mr Lupin," and brought the wooden length crashing down on his vulnerable bottom.

Apparently Professor McGonagall was not one for lecturing during spankings, something Remus was extremely grateful for. Sucking in a breath at the painful sting of the first stroke, the boy could barely form thoughts; comprehensible sentences would have been a stretch for the lad at the mercy of the ruler.

Pain was Remus' thing. Years of transitioning had accustomed him to agony, and he did not usually complain about injury. Yet somehow, spanking always reduced him to tears; perhaps because of the disappointment of the spanker in him that each strike reaffirmed. As each swat rained down on his throbbing bottom, his eyes began to brim with emotion and silent sobs escaped him. His thin boxer shorts provided little protection to the relentless thwack of the yard stick, and soon it felt as if a fire had been ignited on his backside.

Minerva, sensing that the boy was feeling suitably remorseful and yet wanting the lad to remember this punishment well into the next day, wrapped up the spanking with four almighty thwacks to the undercurve of the teen's now blazing scarlet bottom. Remus' composure was rather admirable for his young age, she noted, and she left him to rise from the desk in his own time.

Remus remained prostrated on the mahogany desk, quietly crying, until he remembered the presence of his head of house in the room and gathered himself, blushing, and pulled up his bunched-up trousers, gasping as they brushed over his smarting behind.

"You took that well," his professor said, causing the boy to look up, surprised at the praise, "Although I do not want to see you in this office on the same terms again, Mr Lupin," she added curtly.

Remus vigorously nodded his assent; he most definitely did not want to make lying bottom up over that bloody desk one of his pastimes either.

Giving him a small smile, the formidable professor said, "Back to your common room, now, Mr Lupin. Your friends will be wondering where you are."

Remus reciprocated with a cordial yet measured smile, and exited the office, his gait slightly stiff and awkward.

Remus had not missed the look in Sirius' eyes after he had attacked Malfoy; one that had almost been fear. Unsure of how his friends would react to him, he cautiously pushed open the door to the common room, only to be assaulted by a vicious slap to his behind.

" _AH!_ " he shouted, his tender bum flaming, "Bugger off, James."

His friend flashed a charming grin back at him in response, shouting, "OI, Pete, Sirius, you both owe me five sickles."

Peter came dashing down the stairs with wide eyes. "McGonagall really walloped you?" he questioned.

Sirius tumbled after him, "Maybe she did, but not as hard as Remus slugged that slimy git!"

Remus breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe his friends were absolutely mad, but at least they weren't mad at him.


End file.
